2.18.10 Editor’s Desk

I missed the talk about the birds and the bees. My father never sat me down to explain what was happening to my body as I entered puberty, and my mother never told me where babies come from. In fact, the first time I heard about sex or even realized that boys and girls had different plumbing was when my 12-year-old sister explained—rather crudely—how “boy parts” and “girl parts” fit together.

I can picture it clearly. I was eight years old and my sister and I were in the back seat of my parents’ car while we waited for them to wrap up a rare evening grocery store run. Out of the blue, she asked me if I knew anything about sex. I admitted that I did not, so she showed me. She extended the index finger of her right hand, made a circle with the thumb and forefinger of her left, and proceeded to demonstrate.

Looking back it’s obvious that she had just learned about sex herself and was eager to share.

“Do you get it?” she asked me.

Of course I said that I did, even though I had no clue what she was doing. Fortunately, before her quiz could continue, Mom and Dad returned and dropped the groceries in the trunk. The conversation shifted to dinner plans and schoolwork.

When I was in junior high and high school, I dated girls. I knew I was gay, and I even had a close male friend who helped me explore my still-budding desires. I knew I liked his plumbing, but I continued to act interested in different girls to keep up appearances and to try to be “normal.” I never really understood how babies are made until health class—and it grossed me out.

At home I was taught—indirectly—that sex was something of which we should be ashamed. It was something reserved for dark rooms, behind closed doors and drawn curtains. It was “perverted” subject, never to be discussed. The only information I had about gay sex was in religious literature found in my parents’ home that explained the latest boycott.

My views have changed, and my outlook on sex has matured. I still think sex is a private matter, but as long as it is consensual, between adults, and safe, it should be enjoyed.

Watermark’s annual Sex Issue is full of information about the way local LGBT’s experience sex, and reasons why we should celebrate this most intimate form of human connection and expression. You can’t talk about sex without using words to describe the parts, or the acts—conventional and unconventional. For some, this issue may seem a little raunchy, but we hope most of you will find it both educational and entertaining.

Who knew there were so many different fetishes out there? And I was surprised to learn the many different ways that technology has changed the way that all of us engage in sex.

Every year I have my best girlfriend back in Missouri hop online and take our survey. I wait patiently on the telephone, not because I want to know what she and her husband do in the bedroom, but because her reactions to the questions are more enlightening than the survey itself.

She wasn’t familiar with the term “barebacking,” or at least a dozen other nouns and verbs mentioned throughout. We laughed so hard we forgot which questions she’d answered.

Sex is still an uncomfortable topic for too many people, even within our own community. It is a part of life; nothing more, nothing less. If you’re not enjoying it—and amused by it—you’re missing something. Watermark’s Sex Issue offers information, and more than few laughs, about a topic that remains clouded by misinformation. Enjoy.